Say Anything's ...Is a Real Boy is the absolute zenith of MySpace-era pop punk. Deranged and volatile, with psychotically catchy choruses and anthemic chants and million-dollar hooks bursting in every direction, it's ten pounds of psycho in a five-pound bag. Fueled by Max Bemis's very public emotional struggles -- he's bipolar, which has caused the abrupt cancellation of several lucrative tours -- ...Is a Real Boy has that self-immolating glow of crazed near-genius. Bemis plays most of the instruments that aren't drums and enlists howling Greek choruses of multi-tracked Maxes to shout behind him, an endlessly surging army of glorious narcissism. The lyrics dwell on self-medication, self-loathing, self-pity and self-gratification. Every song sounds 8,000 feet tall. This is the album Weezer would've made next if everyone had loved Pinkerton when it first came out.